


Relentless

by wallflowerdalek



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Mild Kink, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 02:34:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4943368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallflowerdalek/pseuds/wallflowerdalek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things change when Alexander gets married.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relentless

What are you waiting for?

What, Burr? What?

Alexander got married, and Burr showed up to his wedding party without anyone on his arm, like the fool he always has been. For all he tried to encourage Alexander to be a strategist, he showed up here, a sore spot. A smile with a heart behind it.

He mingled. He congratulated the new father-in-law and lavished pride on the bride. He circled the room of swaying bustles and frock coats. Like an animal. Plotting.

He waited until Hamilton had sat down with his damned friends. He would dart in, congratulate the groom, and then leave for Theodosia’s buxom embrace.

That was the plan, anyway.

So how did he end up here, in the larder, Alexander’s cock in his hand, Alexander’s lips against his throat?

“What are you waiting for?” Alexander had asked him, and all Burr could do is smile. Say goodbye. Head for the door. That was it. Their moments of passion were behind them, senseless acts after battles, behind tents or in bushes. They never spoke of it, not once. For all Alexander couldn’t stop talking, he didn’t talk about that.

He didn't talk then, when Burr tried to leave. Just a hand on his elbow, a furtive glance to make sure they weren't noticed, and the click of the larder door.

Alexander fucks like he talks, like he writes. He takes and he takes and he takes…and all Burr wanted to do is give him more, more, more, until Alexander waves a white handkerchief. But he never does. He never gives in. Even here, on his wedding night, pressed against jars of pickles and bags of flour, his forehead against an unfinished shelf. “Do it,” Alexander groans, and Burr moans into Alexander’s cravat. When he finishes, he takes Alexander in his mouth and swallows him down, tasting him for one last time.

As he’s belting his breeches back on, Alexander gives him a butterfly-light kiss under his ear.

“I’ll certainly see you on the other side of the war,” he whispers, before slipping back to his wedding party. And Burr follows, moves past them all, all these passionate, joyful people, making not a ripple as he slips into the night.

Thoughts of Theodosia tug at his conscience. If Burr had slept with a woman, that would be an infidelity. With Alexander…fucking Alexander was as natural as breathing, as arguing with him, as walking quietly through a dark city street. As hating him, his idealistic, pompous ass.

The first time, Alexander had stolen those damn cannons. Everyone acted as if he were General Washington that night. He didn’t have to buy his own beer for a week. Seated on a bench, Mulligan’s arm around his shoulder, and Burr across the room, nursing his drink, watching the hurricane raging around Alexander. Alexander caught his eye, a wicked, loose grin on his lips. _Smile more,_ Burr thought, surprised by how beautiful those lips were. He ducked out back to pee. And then—Alexander was there, lips loose and wet and all over. His hands were down Burr’s breeches before he could react, and after only a moment he was pawing at Alexander, too. Realizing that he has always wanted this. His cock hard under Alexander’s fumbling hands, and they stroked each other there, in the darkness, in the bushes. Burr wrapped his hand around both their cocks, glee as Alexander shuddered at the touch of hot, delicate skin on hot delicate skin. They came together, not bothering to muffle their voices, the bar so boisterous that the redcoats could fire a dozen muskets and no one would hear it.

Burr wiped them off with his handkerchief. Alexander kissed him messily on the lips.

“I’m sure I’ll see you again, Aaron Burr, sir.”

Burr laughed at him, and they went back to the bar. Burr’s legs still shook, though, Alexander's ruthless passion leaving more in Burr than his warm, limp cock, and he left soon thereafter.

It becomes a habit, after successful battles, after not so successful ones. When they’re separated, Burr doesn’t miss him much. But Theodosia—and the women before her—none of them like it the way Alexander does. Alexander likes it fast and rough and he never wants Burr to stop. His pace is relentless and overwelming and Burr is never quite enough—but failing to have all of Alexander Hamilton is worth taking whatever you get. Burr learns that Alexander likes fingernails buried in his flesh, a hand wrapped around his throat, being stroked after he comes until he begs Burr to stop. His arms pinned behind his back while Burr fucks him recklessly, praying he can keep from coming for longer, not wanting to let Alexander win tha battle too. But the sadistic sinewy storm that is Alexander’s body is always too much for him.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he growls, his hand wrapped around that delicate, hairless throat, his cock buried in those familiar buttocks.

And Alexander shakes his head, whispers, “More.” Always more.

 

And now that’s all behind them. Alexander is married, Burr is in love, and his lips taste of the sweetest kind of goodbye. What was he waiting for? Maybe he was waiting for a parting moment.

He walks through the night, smiling.

 


End file.
